X & Y
by Dylissia Jane
Summary: Inhaling deeply, he watched her as he leant, saw her eyes close, her cheekbones becoming hidden under her curled lashes, felt her tense beneath his hands as he released her hands, hearing them make contact with her body. Then he kissed her.


Title - X & Y

Disclaimer - These Characters are NOT mine, I've simply borrowed them - X & Y is performed by Coldplay.

Author Notes - Inspired by the beautiful song which I discovered just this morning X & Y by Cold play, this is just something I squeezed out when I was bored, it's 40 degrees here today so I'm melting - You can find Dylissia Jane on blogger as well *hint,hint*

This was prompted by the "Oh Lisbon" Scene in Ep 3 Season 2 - I just saying 'prompted' not about that. Just me getting some words out.

I haven't seen any of season 4 yet. So NO SPOILERS. aha ha let me have a little bit of surprise. I don't have a BETA so if you know or can recommend any please let me know.

It was strange. Stranger than anything he'd seen lately. Considering his job - what they did every day. What they saw. That was quite a statement.

She stood with her back to him, her shoulders even - her breath caught in the back of her throat he knew that because he had heard the sharp intake of breath, her hands clenched into fists at her side. Her hair obscured her face, but he was pretty sure that if he were to walk towards her and brush the errant hair behind her ears that he'd see tears welling in her eyes.

He was in her territory. Her apartment, it was mainly blank, aside from a few decorative touches that had probably accumulated over time he assumed. When she felt like she needed something beautiful to look at, or to remind her of the beauty that this world can possess.

It was of fragile existence, their relationship was built upon professionalism - one of mutual boundaries and trust. A community one would even say. They both sought after the same outcome just went about it diffrently, he was impulsive and pleasing only to himself. He knew that. A lifetime of observing everybody else's behavior he had learnt to define his own shortcomings quickly enough. She. Well she was Saint Teresa. It was a perfectly good nick name for her. He doubted that she ever did anything for herself, ever. If she did she would feel guilty about it, making sure to 'pay it forward' to anybody who needed anything.

Some how inbetween serving 'justice' they had become alot closer than either would like to admit.

She stood to one side of the room, her lower lip caught between her teeth - eye brows curved in thought - holding her breath. Her legs were spread in a assertive stance, widely set apart with her feet firm to the floor, It was the stance she had that usually accompanied her while she delegated assignments to her team her arms crossed tightly against her chest. Discrete. It wasn't alot, but it was enough to someone that knew her - Or at least to him. That she was genuinely upset. He knew that when she had opened the door, her hands delving into her pockets, more innocence, damsel in distress than he had ever imagined, or could imagine for that matter.

For a while he sat there. Just sitting, examining his hands, the size, the shape. The tiny little scar he had gotten from something, it curved round like a moon. He examined his cuticles, his nails clipped and well maintained, His fingers were long, tapered. He had learned to play piano at one stage. Creative fingers. What to say. What to say. The silence making him feel more on edge, rather than soothing him. Her wide eyes drowning in misery burnt into his mind.

It's such a delicate situation. He knew, that Lisbon would be the kind of woman that needed to keep her integrity and strength intact. She didn't need to be babied, or consoled. She would admit that it's okay to cry, she would just deny it for herself, Saint Teresa never shed tears unless it was for somebody else.

It had been a while since he'd been in any kind of position to offer some sort of human emotion. He'd closed that door long ago, bolting it shut, building the highest of fences around it so that nobody - no matter how much they wanted to could get in, yet somehow, over time Lisbon had found her way in. She had scaled the fences, and dug under the walls around his emotions, without him even noticing it - until now when it physically hurt to see her so fragile and demure. He wondered if she knew that he could see her pain, buried behind those eyes. Deep down, it had been push down so far inside of her that it had become so compact and singular, that unless you really attempted to push the point she would deny any of it even happened, she didn't even notice the burdens she had carried with her she just carried on with what she had to do, the grace and attitude of a warrior. Stone face when people were looking, but terrified on the inside.

This was a rare insight into Teresa Lisbon. Saint Teresa.

She stood in the same spot, not speaking. Just standing, it was haunting in a way, beautiful in another.

He wondered what she would do. If he were to put his hand on her shoulder. Would she push him away. Would she slap him. Would she lean into his open palm - Then would she be okay with him wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest and consoling her. He opted for the first 2 suggestions his mind had prompted, but then again things change. Especially when emotionally strained. He rested his palms face down on the girth of his thigh, his fingers tracing the pin stripes on his suit pants. He could be wrong.

It didn't happen very often, but it could happen.

" You won't tell anyone will you "

That's all she had said. Tell anyone what - He shook his head - Taking attentive steps towards her.

" Of course not "

Actions apparently always speak louder than words. His mind had been switched off, just in that tiny little moment. When he noticed how big her eyes were. How much he could see in them. There had been long whispered romantic rumblings about the two of them. He knew. He knew that she knew as well. However careful she was to cover it up with a quick witted joke or a deflection. She was always on her toes he'd give her that much. But he had planned to give her alot more than that.

He walked towards her with intent, breaking through her personal space. Her eyes darted wildly, her shoulders straightened - defensive. He extended his hand, slowly of course - resting amongst her raven hair, memorizing the feel of it against the sensitive pads of his fingertips, she smelt of vanilla - a naturally sweet scent. It was alot softer than he had imagined - thicker too. Everything about her had always seemed so tiny, so fragile. Her hair was thick, soft - could easily be twirled around his fingertips. So dark in contrast to the pigment of his skin.

He leaned into her his nose colliding with her hair, pulling her to him, flush against his chest. His other hand resting at the small of her back. His breath warming the soft flesh of her neck. He inhaled deeply breathing in the scent of her, her shampoo. The faint smell of her perfume. He held her against her will for milliseconds before letting her go.

She stayed put.

He hadn't expected that at all. He had predicted a stern gaze and a request to leave.

He leaned back slightly, taking in her appearance, tired, worn, weary.

He extended his hand once again, tracing her jaw line with his finger tips, watching unshed tears, welling, falling across her porcelain skin being collected by his thumb - He smiled gently.

" Everything is going to be okay "

She shrugged, sniffling leaning against his chest heavily. He wrapped his larger hands around her smaller fists. Bending once more at the knee to maintain eye contact.

" I promise "

He nodded once more asserting himself. " It's all going to be okay "

It happened because he hadn't been careful enough, because he had let his guard down. Because just this once, just now. He had the thought - the desire to taste her sadness. A morbid thought, he knew - illogically he thought if he just could taste it, maybe he could take it away. Just maybe.

Inhaling deeply, he watched her as he leant, saw her eyes close, her cheekbones becoming hidden under her curled lashes, felt her tense beneath his hands as he released her hands, hearing them make contact with her body. Then he kissed her.

Using both hands, He began raising them to her face, cupping her chin, luring her towards him, pressing his lips to hers, not to roughly - but firmly enough to taste. His thumb collected tears that had gathered amongst her lashes, waiting until the weight of the tear became to much and began to make it's greedy trail across her skin. He pulled away pressing his lips to her forehead, leaving his imprint on the skin there. He pressed his lips to each cheek, tasting the salty bitterness of her pain - savoring it.

He drew his lips slowly from her cheek, breathing her in - trying to memorize the way it feels before the door slams shut once more. He covered her lips with his - drinking her in. He felt her lips part, felt her nose squish against his, her breath warm against his upper lip, her soft lips giving way to the cavern of her mouth - he felt all of it, trying to memorize how her teeth felt against her tongue, what she tasted like, if it felt good or not, had she been wanting this, for how long.

His logic - was gone.

That pang of guilt however, was there. So strong he placed his hands on her shoulders gently, his forehead pressed against hers while he stared down at his worn brown shoes. Feeling that hollow sinking, guilt. That twisted his stomach. He knew what he'd look like to her.

Could feel his shoulders heaving with each sharp intake of breath, his mouth dry out as he breathed in heavy, and breathed out, his whole body feeling like it was about to crumble into it's self.

" Everything will be fine, I promise "

He muttered grabbing his jacket from the back of the sofa, sparing a glance at her before closing the door behind him,


End file.
